


who dares to love forever

by downthedarkpath



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Dreamons, Established Relationship, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Relationship Study, The Prison, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:07:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29103048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downthedarkpath/pseuds/downthedarkpath
Summary: Dream hides, like he’s weak, tucked into the furthest corner of his cell. George has never been more afraid of him. He holds a hand out to him, and Dream snatches it, digs his nail into the flesh, into the spaces between bones and tendons until it hurts and George flinches. Then, he laughs.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 243





	who dares to love forever

**Author's Note:**

> so [dev](https://twitter.com/NETHERW4RT), [solaine](https://twitter.com/sxlaine), [kiv](https://twitter.com/kivy_), and i were talking about dream and the dreamon on twitter, blah blah one thing led to another.... venom and eddie.
> 
> it was going to be funnier. it was also going to be shorter. man.
> 
> title from [who wants to live forever](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Jtpf8N5IDE) by queen. i think its honestly kinda fitting

The first time he visits the prison, George isn’t  _ scared.  _

He’s intimidated, sure. Sam is scary, and the prison is big and dangerous. But he isn’t scared. Not really.

(Well, maybe a little bit, when Sam starts lowering the lava just outside the cell. He’s not sure what he’ll find; how much of Dream will be left).

“Stand here,” Sam instructs. The voice he uses grinds against all the vertebrae in George’s spine, like nails down a blackboard. “A bridge will appear. Call me when you want to leave, got it?”

George shivers. He’s cold, even with all the lava. “Got it.”

The bridge is wobbly. When he reaches the cell, there’s a netherite barrier. George can see Dream, cowering in the corner. He can barely see Dream in him, the fear doesn’t suit him. It looks fake. Maybe he just hopes it isn’t real.

“Dream?”

“George?”

His voice isn’t the same. George twists his eyebrows together. He doesn’t recognise Dream, whoever it is in front of him.

“Is that really you?” Dream continues. He speaks with two voices, like he’s seen George before and never seen him at all.

“It's me,” George says. The netherite barrier drops. When George looks behind him, all he sees is flowing lava. “Is it really you?”

There’s a brief moment, where George looks into Dream’s eyes and isn’t quite sure who looks back at him. It’s only quick; over before it ever really began. 

“Who else,” Dream mutters. He’s bitter. George steps over the netherite, into the main body of the cell. Closer to Dream. “Who else would it be?”

This isn’t Dream. “I don’t know,” George says. He feels all of his muscles tense, and then release at the same time. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

Dream hides, like he’s weak, tucked into the furthest corner of his cell. George has never been more afraid of him. He holds a hand out to him, and Dream snatches it, digs his nail into the flesh, into the spaces between bones and tendons until it hurts and George flinches. Then, he laughs.

“Tell you? What is there to tell you?”

“Ow- Dream-!”

“It’s disgusting,” Dream says, and the words sour on his tongue. They warp in the air between them, acid pouring from his oesophagus like George wouldn’t take it, wouldn’t burn himself over and over and over for him. “The way he thinks of you. Eugh. You know, it’s all he thinks about? When we’re locked in the back of his head, he sits there and he thinks about you, and it’s disgusting.”

George feels his bones crack. There’s crescents pressed into his palm, and they ache. “Who are you?”

Dream laughs again. It’s not his laugh. “You haven’t realised yet? He’s screaming at you, right now. Screaming who I am. Who we are.”

“Let him go.”

“How sweet. No.”

“Then… let him out. Just for a bit,” George says, “let me talk to him. When I leave, you can have him back.”

Dream tilts his head, like he’s considering. Like he’s patronising. “I’ll think about it. Ask me again tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow-?!”

Dream turns his body until he isn’t looking at George anymore. He won’t answer anything else today. George swallows, steps up to the lava, calls for Sam.

He doesn’t look back.

* * *

“You did come.”

“Of course I came.”

Dream makes a face. “I didn’t think you would, is all. I thought we would have scared you off.”

“You don’t scare me.”

“Don’t we?”

“No,” George says, “you don’t.”

It must be the first time anyone has ever told Dream that. He doesn’t reply.

“Will you let me talk to him today?” George asks. He’s waiting for the rejection, waits minutes, waits for longer than he wants to. Until Dream, and it’s really him, throws himself at George until they both stumble back and collapse against the obsidian walls.

“Oh, God,” Dream says, heaves like he’s sobbing, pushes himself against George like he’s never going to leave. “Oh, my God, it’s you. You’re here. You’re actually here.”

The stone is uncomfortable. George shuffles them until he has his arms tight around Dream, one hand on the back of his neck and the other on the small of his back. Dream presses his face into George’s neck, and George isn’t sure if it’s tears or sweat he feels.

“I’m here,” he agrees, “of course, I’m here, I’ll always be here.”

George isn’t sure who he’s trying to convince more. Himself, Dream, or the elephant in the room.

“I was so scared,” Dream says, “everything it did. Everything it said. I thought you’d never come. And when you did, I thought it would hurt you. It would make me hurt you.”

“It?”

He’s shaking. Dream is shaking. His fear is palpable, and unsettling. George can’t remember a time he’s ever seen Dream so upset.

“The… you’ve been speaking to it. The Dreamon,” Dream says. “That’s why… that’s why everything happened. But I didn’t want to, George, I didn’t want to!”

Everything falls into place. It’s undeniably perfect, in the way a rotting carcass heralds new life and it’s beautiful. “I know,” George says, “I know. But I’m here, now, and so are you. And I’ll… I’ll sort it out. I’ll sort everything out.”

“Don’t go yet.”

“I won’t,” George promises. He won’t leave until Sam drags him away. “I’ll never leave again, Dream.”

* * *

“Is he there?” George asks the next day.

The Dreamon glares at him. “Why should I let you speak to him?”

“Do we need a reason?” George says. He doesn’t step too far into the cell, just in case. The Dreamon is still a loose cannon, and no matter how much faith he has in Dream to hold it back when he needs to, he still doesn’t  _ trust  _ it.

The Dreamon shrugs. “I guess not. You could bribe me, though.”

“Bribe you with what?” George says, incredulously.

“Talk to me, today,” it says. “For a bit. Your boy is annoying, and he’s the only one I’ve got around here. Until you.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” George says, “you’ve hurt too many people. You’ve hurt Dream. If you won’t let me talk to him, I’ll call Sam right now and leave.”

“Then I’ll never let you speak to him again!”

George falters. “Really?”

“We’ll have to see, won’t we?”

“You’re aware of how childish that is, right?”

The Dreamon makes a face, “so? Are you going to leave?”

George grinds his teeth. He settles on the opposite side of the netherite barrier, watching the Dreamon carefully. “Fine. What do you want to talk to me about?”

“Tell me about him.”

“About- about Dream?”

“Who else?”

George sighs. “What about him? And why?”

The Dreamon carefully doesn’t meet his eye. “Because I want to know. Tell me everything.”

“Will you use it to hurt him?” George asks. He steels himself, glares right at the Dreamon and then straight through it. “Will you?”

“Why would I te-”

“Be honest.”

“...I won’t hurt him.”

“Good,” George says. He inhales. All he tastes is soot and magma. “Good. What do you want to know?”

It’s the weakest he’s ever seen the Dreamon. He can’t tell if it’s the light; the weak orange from the lava, that makes it look like everything’s glowing brighter than it actually is, or if the Dreamon has tears in it’s eyes. “Everything.”

He thinks for a moment. “I followed him here. To this world. At first, it was just the two of us. Sapnap, sometimes. Bad. Sam. A couple others.”

“How did it become this?”

“More people arrived,” George says. “Everything started going wrong. I don’t really know how. We started off together, and I thought it’d always be that way.”

“You’re here now,” the Dreamon says. “Isn’t that enough?”

It’s the most emotion George has heard from it. He can’t tell if it’s genuine. It sounds like it. “Not for me,” he says, “and probably not for Dream, either. It was going to be me and him, you know. Against the world. It sounds stupid now.”

“It isn’t.”

“Isn’t it?” George echoes. “You tore that away from us.”

“Don’t talk about that. Talk about before,” the Dreamon requests.

George sighs. He has to think, for a moment. Back before everything. It seems so long ago. “We went to the Nether. When we first came here. We were going to live there. How stupid would that have been?”

The Dreamon chuckles with him. It’s almost painfully human. “Pretty stupid.”

“You know, some of the old structures are still around,” George says. “There’s a dumb cobblestone statue near the mushroom house. We built that when we first arrived. There’s probably more if you know where to look for them… but most things are destroyed now. A lot of things are destroyed now.”

“Are they?”

“You were out there,” George says, “you did a lot of it. Did you never see?”

The Dreamon is quiet. Like this, George could almost pretend it really is Dream looking back at him. “I never looked.”

“Maybe you should have,” he says. He feels… pity.

* * *

“Will you let me talk to him today?” George asks, before the netherite barrier has even fallen. Dream - at least, his body - is walking around the cell, pacing it impatiently.

“George!”

George freezes. It’s him.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Dream says. He throws himself at the barrier, reaching across it to take George’s hand. “The Dreamon, it’s… it’s been quieter. It lets me go. It let me go today!”

George can’t help his grin. “I’m glad. I’m so glad I get to talk to you, for once.”

The barrier falls. Dream pulls him into the cell and George goes, until they both sink to the ground and lean against the obsidian. Dream presses himself so tightly against George, it’s like he could crawl inside his very skin.

“You’ve been speaking to it,” Dream says. It’s not a question, and he doesn’t sound hurt. 

“You heard?”

“It let me listen,” he says, “yesterday. You were kind to it.”

“Should I not have been?”

Dream thinks for a moment. George watches the way his brow screws up. “I don’t know. I think it’s a good thing… it was better, after you left.”

“Is it listening right now?” George asks.

“It always is.”

George hums. He picks up one of Dream’s hands, curling his fingertips around his. Dream’s nails are torn ragged, like he’s been scratching at the walls and picking at his skin. He barely winces when George touches the wounds. “Is it lonely?”

“Here?” Dream says, he shrugs, “not really. I guess so. I don’t really think I’m alone.”

“No, I meant… The Dreamon. Is it lonely?”

Dream opens and closes his mouth. It’s like he doesn’t know the answer. 

“You don’t have to answer,” George says. “I’m going to ask Sam for some bandages next time.”

“What for?”

“Your hands, Dream,” he says, holding one of them in his, grimacing at the scabbed blood and broken nails and scratches running down from Dream’s nail beds. “How did you even…?”

Dream looks at his hands like he’s never seen them before. “I don’t… I don’t remember doing that.”

“Does it hurt?”

“I don’t know.”

George inhales. He blinks. “Okay. That's okay. I’ll make it better anyway. Okay?”

“Okay, George,” Dream says. He smiles, like he’s happy. His eyes are sad. “Thank you.”

He squeezes Dream’s fingers. It doesn’t even hurt him. “How is it here?” he asks, “how are you? Really?”

“It’s not bad,” Dream says. “They give me food, and water. And I sleep every night. It could be worse. At least there isn’t a draught.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m being serious!” Dream says. “I don’t get cold here. It could be worse. Sometimes, I think it’s better than out there.”

“You really think so?” George asks.

Dream nods, “yes. There’s no fighting here. I’m safe. I have you. Sam talks to me, sometimes. I’m not alone, I’m not hated. I don’t have to sleep with one eye open anymore.”

George swallows down bile. “Of course. Do you… want to leave?”

He doesn’t reply. George supposes that’s answer enough.

* * *

“What does he say to you?” Sam asks the next day, just before he starts to clear the lava.

“Nothing important,” George says. He thinks about the Dreamon, about Dream, about all the puzzle pieces they’ve given him. He can’t make a picture yet, though. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to.

“You’ll tell me if it is, right?” Sam asks. George nods; he knows he won’t.

* * *

Dream is sleeping when he next visits.

The prison has become familiar, George is no longer intimidated by it. The heat of the lava is comforting, and the constant ticking of the machinery is almost nice.

George steps over the netherite barrier and sinks to the ground beside his bed. One of the Dream’s hands hangs off the edge of it, and he takes it. Sam had given him bandages and an antiseptic solution, and George takes the opportunity to clean the wounds and cover them. Dream doesn’t wake throughout any of it, and George doesn’t try to wake him, either.

He tightens the bandages around Dream’s fingertips, kisses each one gently. The clock on the cell wall shows night time, and Sam hasn’t called him back yet. George pulls the bed covers back, clambers over Dream until he’s against the wall and holding Dream in his arms. 

Here, they sleep.

* * *

He wakes up and Dream is still in his arms. George kisses his cheek, brushes hair from his temples. His peacefulness is so rare these days, George almost doesn’t recognise it.

Dream doesn’t wake up. Instead, George blinks into the eyes of the Dreamon.

“You’re still here,” it says.

“I am.”

“Why did you stay?”

George sighs. “I wanted to. It’s been so long since we’ve spent a night together. Even with you here, it’s enough for now.”

“Even with  _ me  _ here?” the Dreamon repeats. It sounds disgusted.

“I’m sorry,” George says, “it’s just… true. Sorry.”

“Are you?”

He doesn’t have an answer. The Dreamon looks at him, keeps looking. It hurts more than the lava does. There are only so many times George can apologise, and the Dreamon never seems to hold onto them.

“I get it,” the Dreamon says, “you wanna be with him. I get it!”

George is still quiet.

“It’s just… sometimes it’s nice. Sometimes I like being with you, too.”

* * *

He doesn’t go back for a few days. He can’t. George doesn’t know how he could look at Dream, look in his eyes, and not feel confusion and fear boil up in his stomach. Sam doesn’t question it - no one does. George doesn’t run into anyone, doesn’t seek them out.

He stays alone. He can’t tell if he feels better after it all, or not.

* * *

When he does next visit, Dream is curled in the corner again. He doesn’t even wait for the barrier to drop before demanding, “where were you?!” And George feels his heart break.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“You said you weren’t going to leave,” Dream says. He unfurls slightly, enough to let George near him. “I believed you. Why didn’t you come back?”?

“I had to take a break,” George says, “I… the Dreamon said something. I couldn’t…”

“What did it say?”

“Did you not hear it?”

Dream shakes his head. “It won’t let me listen now. When it’s just you, it won’t let me hear you. Why? Do you know why that is?”

“It said it likes being alone with me,” George says. “It sounded upset.”

“It didn’t do anything do you?”

George swallows, “no. It never does. We just talk.”

“Like you’re friends?”

“I guess so,” George says, “that’s not how I’d describe it but… yeah. I guess.”

“Isn’t that weird?” Dream asks. He starts migrating closer to George, until their elbows touch. “It’s a Dreamon.”

He shrugs, “I don’t know. Do you find it weird?”

“Kinda. The Dreamon is just a parasite, right?” Dream says, “I’d rather if you just ignore it.”

“Right,” George agrees. “Okay. Okay. I’ll ignore it.”

* * *

And he tries to. He really does.

The first thing the Dreamon says to him is, “don’t ignore me.”

George tries not to look at him.

“George. Don’t ignore me.”

He tries so hard.

“George!”

He tries-

“I’ll throw his body into the lava a hundred times over, tear his fists apart on the walls, destroy his cell until all he has is rubble and you will be more and more afraid of him. I’ll never let you speak again-”

“Okay,” George says.

The Dreamon smiles. It’s not the way Dream smiles, but it doesn’t seem any less genuine. Which is, well,  _ weird. _

“How are you, George?” the Dreamon asks, like nothing else has been said.

“I’m okay,” George says. It’s not a lie, but it’s not entirely true. He wants to talk to Dream. “How are you?”

“Nothing really happens around here,” the Dreamon says, “Dream’s been thinking about you. We were talking, actually, about the two of you.”

George isn’t sure why he’s surprised to hear that the Dreamon talks to Dream. He’s not sure what he thought they did, but he didn’t think they would talk. It seems too… casual.

“What about us?”

“About how annoying you are together,” the Dreamon replies, “how all you do is hug and kiss and be all touchy-feely. It’s awful.”

“To you, maybe,” George says.

“You know, he did accuse me of being jealous.”

“Jealous?”

The Dreamon laughs. “I know right! Why would  _ I  _ want to kiss  _ you _ ? Crazy, isn’t it? I think the isolation must be getting to him.”

“You would have bought that on yourself, then,” George says, “he wouldn’t be in isolation if not for you.”

“Are you blaming me for it?” The Dreamon asks.

George nods. “Yeah. I think I am.”

“What a shame,” it says. George looks at the floor. He doesn’t look back up.

**Author's Note:**

> now with an awesome funky [design](https://twitter.com/kivy_/status/1361762173832232960?s=20) by kiv kivy (its the third tweet in the thread, you might have to scroll down ._.)
> 
> thank u for reading! i reiterate, this was going to be funnier... but man... i started the angst and i couldnt just go back on it
> 
> let me know what you thought! and thank u to my delightful friends for feeding this, even though its less happy then i thought it would be...
> 
> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ERR0RGEO)


End file.
